The Fourth Son
by gallantmon7196
Summary: There are three famously known sons, gods in fact. But there was a fourth, one that is 2 millennia younger, whose existence is kept a secret from even the Fates themselves. Follow Perseus, the survivor of Thermopylae, as he struggles between siding with his siblings or siding with his father in the war to come.


**Warning: Strong language throughout the story**

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Prologue

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"Ready your breakfast and eat hearty...For tonight, we dine in Hell!" The king shouted to the men and the other remaining warriors. I stood there, in my full battle cold touch of my bronze shield and armor give my skin a chilled sensation, my sword strapped to my waist, my spear in my hand along with my shield. I am Perseus, soldier for my home, Sparta, and I will protect her.

Sparta may be my home, but it is not my place of birth, in fact, I do not know where I come from or even whom my birth parents even if I did, I would not consider them to be my parents, King Leonidas is my father and Queen Gorgo as my mother, and Pleistarchus is my younger brother. You see, my birth parents left me in a dirt path, I assume for me to rot, to never exist. But my father, Leonidas, age forty at this point, found me while returning from a war and carried me to the palace hoping for me to be his child and heir. There, he showed me to his wife, Gorgo, and she too fell in love with me and the two of them raised me. Of course I was told this jusst recently but even now I consider them to be my parents.

While growing up I was trained by my father as any other Spartan child. I was taught every form of combat imaginable and with every weapon of Greece. Except the bow, bows are a coward's weapon, a real warrior is to meet his enemy face to face, able to see their eye's color. After joining the my comrades in arms, I became my father's unofficial second in command. Why? Because I am one of two beings in all of Sparta that have the actual guts to say "No" to my father. The other two being my mother and my fathers official second in command, known simply as The Captain. Now I stand with him, King Leonidas, King of Sparta, Descendant of Heracles himself, and most importantly my father. I stand with him, prepared for the final battle of this war, one that we all known can't be one, but surrendering just isn't in our vocabulary.

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###Next Day###

I crouched there, my body adorned in full body armor. My breast plate custom made to fit my torso. My kilt style pieces attached to my waist my bronze helmet gleaming from the sunlight peeking through the dome of shields. I crouched there, my comrades in arms on either side of me. We all clutched onto the hilt of our swords tightly. In front of us, Leonidas, my father, was speaking to the so called "God-King" Xerxes, the ruler of Persia. That man, towering a full head over many men had very dark skin that is characteristic to that of Persians, he had almost feminist features that come with the pampered childhood that he had. He was adorned in many golden chains with a long golden chain link cape tied to his neck. I turned my attention to listening to Xerxes speak to my father.

"Now Leonidas, bow down to me and I will make sure that your men will survive, along with your home. They will all be spared."

I smirked under my helmet, there was no way that my father would submit. He was too proud of a man to do so, and he knew that it would make him look weak in front of his men. The Captain, who crouched next to me scoffed silently before leaning his head closer to my ear.

"If he thinks that your father is going to bow down to him, then Xerxes is a bigger fool than I originally thought."

The two of us chuckled at his comment, it was true. Xerxes was nothing more that a pampered arrogant prick that believes that he can get whatever he wants just because he did when growing up. My father father would never bow down to a man like him, never.

My father turned his head to us, his remaining Spartan, a mere 158 from the beginning 300. He wore his usual smirk of confidence, but I could tell it was fake, along with the Captain. It was a forced one, while his face showed confidence, his eyes showed fear. Fear for us, fear for his wife, my mother, that he may not be returning home, fear for Pleistarchus, my brother, a boy not even walking this world for 6 years yet. His face contorted from a smirk to one that was grim and the cheer ended. Turning back to Xerxes, my father's hands let go of his spear's shaft and the strap on his shield, causing both of them to clatter on the rock beneath our feet. He hung his head down, sobs causing his shoulders to lift violently up and down. He tore of helmet and threw it aside, the plume kicking up a storm of dust. The Captain muttered softly to himself, but just loud enough of for me to hear.

"No. Don't."

In one swift motion, my father, Leonidas, King of the Spartan, descendant of Heracles himself, my hero, fell to his hands and knees and began to weep as he bowed to the Persian. Wet tears streaming from his face and onto the dry rock, eagerly soaked up by the sand.

"Father!"

I broke from my position, much to the bewilderment from my comrades and rushed to my father's side. Throwing aside my sword and shield, I bent down next to my father's still cry form. I patted my hand on the crimson commander's cape that he wore. Before I could even utter a word, a low bellowing laugh erupted from the Persian. Turning head, my yellow-gold eyes looked angerily at the "God-King", who stood up from his golden throne to look at us.

"Go fuck yourself, Xerxes! You call yourself scum, but you are no better than the roaches I step on."

The bellowing stopped abruptly as Xerxes glared down at me.

"You dare insult me, boy! I am Xerxes, the God-King, King of Kings, ruler of Persia, and soon your pitiful home, Greece. Who are you to insult me?"

Standing up, I tore my own helmet off, facing the "God-King". My eyes now burning with anger.

"I am Perseus, son of Leonidas, King of Sparta. I am the heir to the Spartan throne. And if you want to march any further, you will have to do so marching over my cold, dead, body."

"So be it."

Before I could react, Xerxes picked up a spear next to his thrown and hurled it at me, slicing through my breast plate and embedding into my chest. Stabbing my heart.

"PERSEUS!"

My father jumped up try and failing to catch me from crumpling to the ground. I saw his face one last time, then everything faded into black.

###End of Chapter###

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**Well, here is my third PJO story. I just want to say that this was posted due to me getting the idea and not wanting to lose it. **

**Well what can I say, I love 300 hundred and this is where I wanted to start.**

**Remember to review. Feedback is very much appreciated, I carefully read through every review so as to assist with developing my story.**


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